One of the Moments
by jcd1013
Summary: An early morning obsession...with feet? Future Literati marshmellowy fluff. Pure sugar. Read at your own diabetic risk!


**One of the Moments**

Summary: An early morning obsession…with feet? Future Literati marshmellowy fluff. Pure sugar. Read at your own diabetic risk!

Rating: Um, PG-13? PG? I have no idea. 

Spoilers: General, through Nag Hammadi

Disclaimer: Not mine. Inspired and possibly lifted from _A Room With A View_, by E.M. Forrester. 

This is all Becka's (**MahliaLily**) fault! If she hadn't had written "_Stupid Reasons_" (go read! now!) and got me in such a sappy mood, I would have had no need to write one also. But since she got Jess's hands, I get to write about his feet! Soon, there will not be a part of that boy's body that, um, has not been appreciated. :) Dedicated also to Marissa, who was having such a hard week, that I decided to write this and make her feel better. Hope it managed to keep her mind from those dratted letters for a few minutes at least!

**_One of the Moments_**

**_By jcd1013_**

_~~"Dear girl, forgive my prosiness; marry my boy. When I think what life is, and how seldom love is answered by love—Marry him; it is one of the moments for which the world was made."_

From _A Room With A View, _by E.M. Forrester

"I like your feet," she announced, solemnly looking down at said limbs poking out from the white sheets.

He turned his dark eyes towards her, that little puzzled crease she loved so much appearing in the corner of his mouth. "My feet?"

"Yep. Those long, pretty toes and then your teeny little baby toes. They're so short and squatty, it's cute." She poked at the wiggling toes with her foot.

"Pretty? Cute? Any other body part you want to feminize?"

She ignored him. "It's a genetic thing, you know. Short baby toes. And really long middle toes. All comes from our genes."

"Our kids could get it?"

Our kids. A delicious feeling of warmth spread across her belly. "They'd better. I don't want them ending up with my toes."

"What's wrong with them?"

"They're fat. And short. And calloused. I have ugly feet." She scowled down at the offending appendages, sprawled between his legs, and stuck out her tongue.

He maneuvered so her foot now rested in his palm, and caressed the sides. "Rory," he kissed the tip of her big toe, "there's not a part of your body," he kissed it again, "that is not beautiful."

She giggled, her fingers playing with the delicate hairs at the nape of his neck. "That was way too sentimental for you. Who are you and what have you done with Jess?"

"Murdered him last night. Didn't you hear the screams?"

"That's too bad. I rather liked him, but I suppose I can keep you." She leaned forward and kissed him, then rested her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arms loosely about him. He massaged her foot, and for a moment, she was quiet, just enjoying his touch, feeling his chest rise with each breath. It had been so long, she had almost forgotten how much she loved this.

The early sun streaked through the open window, highlighting his vein lines and tendon threads of his foot in a soft pink. She grinned widely, a memory returning.

"You know what else I like about your feet?" She said, the mischievous grin spreading across her face.

"Huh?" He asked warily, moving slightly out of her grasp.

"They are," she paused as if contemplating a masterpiece, before finishing rapidly, "the only place where you are ticklish!" 

She pounced, attacking quickly, moving fingers lightly over the roughened skin. He squirmed briefly, and before she knew it, had flipped the advantage—she was painfully ticklish, as he evidently remembered. It wasn't long, before, in the midst of deep giggles, that she was begging for release.

"Stop! Okay, okay! I surrender!!'" She hollered, trying to twist out of his grasp. Unfortunately the bed too small, and there was no room for escape. She slid down to the floor, a tangle of sheets following her.

He peered over the edge, keeping his arms close to her ribs, posed for another round. "Surrender? On what terms?"

"No more tickling and I'll leave your feet alone."

"Promise?" He kicked a leg up in the air, and she suppressed the desire to claim those feet. Ah, well. She'd get him another day. He was all hers, now.

"Meanie…. Okay, I promise."

"Not good enough."

"What? What more do you want?" She crossed her arms around her chest, hoping that she looked intimidating. 

For an answer, he languidly leaned over and picked up a book from the nightstand. "Mine first."

She gasped. "I haven't finished it yet!"

"Then no deal," and he moved menacingly towards her again.

She put her hands up in front of her, as his finger brushed against her ribs, trying to push it away. "Okay, okay! You can have it!"

"He stopped instantly. "Deal," and held out a hand to help her back onto the bed.

She pouted at the smile lighting his eyes, almost forgetting why she was mad at him. "It wasn't a fair fight, you know."

"It wasn't?" He opened his arms, and she settled back against his chest.

"No, it wasn't. Now you'll have to read it to me."

He shook his head, but she sensed from his smile pressed against her head that she probably wouldn't have to do much wheedling to convince him in the future. She smiled… there were always different ways of winning.

"Do you think they'll ever forgive us?"

'No," he said lightly, tracing patterns on her arm.

"My mother probably hates me. Why am I not upset about it?"

"Because you got a better deal?" 

She giggled and punched him lightly. "Stop that. She's still my mom."

"And she'll probably have me castrated when we get back." He peppered the bridge of her cheek with brushed kisses.

"Mmmm. She did always tell me that bad boys like you were just lurking around trying to get me pregnant." 

"What do you think I'm trying to do here?" He growled, before capturing her lip between his.

"Great invention, birth control…" She murmured as they parted. He smiled, and continued his journey to her neck. She arched it slightly. "Mom'll come back. She can't stay mad at me forever. Lane thinks it's romantic."

"I thought she didn't like me."

"Well, she thinks it's all your fault."

"You ran away with me." He reminded her, twining her fingers with his, his lips pressed against her pulse.

She caressed the inside of his palm, tracing new initials into his flesh and rubbing the band of silver, concentrating on his touch, "I know, I just couldn't let you leave without me. But if you hadn't come back…and if I hadn't seen you at my graduation…I'd…I'd be applying…to grad school…right now," she was losing trains of thought faster than they arrived. "Paris…thinks…I'm crazy…eloping…and marrying you…two weeks after… you came back." 

He stopped, and turned to look at her. "Do you regret it? We could have, no, should have waited." He started to move from her arms.

She leaned against him and kissed him hard, trying to convey all of the passion and love she felt in that connection. "No! I knew when you came back that last time, that you were it. More time didn't make any difference. I could have married you then."

He smiled wryly. "That's why you forgave me, huh?"

"Yep. I couldn't stay angry at my soul-mate for the rest of my life." 

He still looked serious. Concerned. "Even though we hadn't managed to date for a year without breaking up? What makes you think that we'll make it?" 

She touched the side of his face. "Because then, we were young and stupid."

"We're still young and stupid. Twenty-three is still young and stupid."

"Yeah, but we know each other now. It's not like we haven't talked every night for the past two years. We're different people, just look how far we've come, Jess! We survived the long distance thing; this will be a piece of cake. Chocolate and gooey. We'll make it, Lorelai's doomed prophecies be—"

"No doubts?" He questioned, never taking his eyes from her.

"No doubts." She whispered, and meant it. 

"So tell me, Mrs. Mariano," and he bent in to brush his mouth with hers, "what it feels like to be 23, graduated from college without even a job—"

"Hey! I'll have you know—"

He continued over her rants, kissing her intermittently, "—And yet, lucky enough to be married to the talented and supremely handsome budding editor, Jess Mariano?"

"Well, to be honest, he's not all that cute. I was just taking pity on him…. And you know what's awful, we've been in England for three days now, land of famous authors, and do you think he's taken me for any sightseeing??"

Her mock-interview was interrupted by another breathtaking kiss, and she could hardly remember what she had been saying with the feel of his hands… And those beautiful feet of his had found hers…

"You were saying something about sightseeing?" He mumbled against her mouth.

"Uh…maybe tomorrow…" she gasped, drawing him closer.

His passion-filled eyes met hers with a promise. "Baby, I'll give you a thousand tomorrows."

She laughed at his attempts of possessive machoism and lost herself in another kiss. As the world rolled away, Rory was already devising ways for him to keep his pledge…. 

_~~Youth wrapped them; the song of Phaethon announced passion requited, love attained, But they were conscious of a love more mysterious than this. The song died away; they heard the river, bearing the snows of winter into the Mediterranean._

From _A Room With A View_, by E.M. Forrester.


End file.
